


Waxing Poetic

by archea2



Series: The Reason for the Unreason [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Acrostic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, Sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock watches Greg at the close of a case. A quick one to celebrate National Poetry Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waxing Poetic

 

Here is Sherlock’s effort, cleverly glued to the verso of Greg’s paperwork du jour.

He was felled by the Muse at the close of a rather tricky case, after a two-day round of catnaps, wild races and stopgap Weetabix. Which might explain why it took Greg twenty minutes and a little help from the Internet to get his point.

_Sonnet_

_Though you are one of those who bombilate_

_In and out of bed, most infuriatingly,_

_And have, for reasons I will not adumbrate,_

_Offered to DYE YOUR HAIR and gild the lily,_

_—-_

_(Still, a venial sin when I recall Friday_

_And your preposterous offer post-_

_Case that we let “Andy” Anderson say_

_That direst of rites, the bridal toast,_

_—-_

_A term as passé in this day and age as insipid.)_

_And yet. Yesternight, while your Pandas shrilled_

_Past in constabulorious glory, and you stupid,_

_STUPID man, nursed that_

_Greg, you could have been killed_

_—-_

_I came to you from the shadow of a car,_

_Obscuring all my vows in_ there you are _._

Once he did get the point, Greg rubbed at his eyes and groped for a felt pen.

Rhymes could wait.

Reason could wait.

But this - this couldn't, wouldn't wait.

 

_Shut up, love, and_

_Hold me close._

_Even if you’d_

_Rather I didn’t,_

_Let me say this_

_Once and for all._

_Christ. How do I even…_

_'Kay. Three, two, one. Here goes._

_—-_

_Home is you alive._

_O is watching you._

_Love is every_ He’ll be back _._

_Mine is yours, and_

_Ever is a given,_

_Sunshine. There we are._

Greg entered his bedroom and pressed the post-it to the shoulder of the long, sleepy form already bombilating in his own bed. Then he pressed a kiss to it, bundled the duvet warmer around it, and padded back slowly to the drawing-room. 

The sun was already dawning.


End file.
